


Little Lion

by verhalen



Series: Keeping Up With The Fëanorions [6]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Kink, Brother/Brother Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Incestuous House Of Finwë, Knifeplay, M/M, Mental Health Issues, One Shot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21547294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: Fëanor is having one of his difficult episodes where he just wants to be left alone.Finarfin is having none of it.
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Finarfin | Arafinwë
Series: Keeping Up With The Fëanorions [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1364041
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	Little Lion

Fëanor had not been outside his workshop much in weeks. He was having another one of his fits.  
  
There had, weeks ago, been another misunderstanding with Nerdanel. Once again he had come out of it with the feeling that nothing he said or did would be good enough, that he was always saying and doing the wrong thing. It used to be, in the early days of their marriage, they could resolve things sooner rather than later - sex cured all manner of ills. But they had been drifting apart, less and less time for each other, less and less thought to each other. Fëanor still loved her, and that was the problem. He loved with the fire of a sun, the fire of a star exploding. And when that love was rejected, that fire imploded, leaving him burnt.  
  
The problems with Nerdanel would be bad enough on their own, but whenever he had problems with Nerdanel, problems with Ñolofinwë soon followed. For years, he and his brother-lover made sport of their sibling rivalry, the clash of their personalities, opposites attracting violently, adding spice to their sinful unions. But as of late there had been far less lovemaking and far more arguing, as Fëanor felt stung enough by Nerdanel to be short and reactive with Ñolofinwë, and Fëanor was starting to feel the distance with his brother as well. And as different as they were, they were both alike in their pride, where the more each of them felt stung by the distance, the less willing they were to try to be the first to reach out and bridge the distance.  
  
The drifting from Nerdanel was merely painful, the drifting from Ñolofinwë was downright unbearable. At last Kanafinwë came around, wanting to comfort his father, hold him, soothe and coddle, offer pleasure. And as much as Fëanor desperately ached for such tenderness, the wounded pride came out with a roar of " _Don't you feel sorry for me._ "  
  
So here he was, in his forge, alone. Working tirelessly on his latest obsession. If he could not have the passion of his lovers' bodies, the song, the dance, the beauty of mating together, he would have the passion of creation, his work keeping him company.  
  
And then one of his servants dared interrupt him. "Forgive me, master -"  
  
"What. Is. _It._ " Fëanor slammed down his hammer. "This had better be _important._ "  
  
"Finarfin is here to see you." The servant bowed slightly, with an apologetic frown.  
  
Fëanor tilted his head to one side. He had not seen Arafinwë in some time - it was a long way to travel. Long enough that, as much as Fëanor wanted to be left alone, he finally left his forge, going to the greatroom where Arafinwë was pacing around.  
  
His youngest brother - that damned Indis's favorite - was much the same as he'd seen him the last time, airy robes of sky blue flowing over a white tunic and breeches, adorned with delicate jewelry that Fëanor had gifted him of pale blue stones mixed with grey stones of a silver-blue-gold flash, like sunrise on a winter morning. The knee-length flood of silver-gold hair that had enchanted Fëanor for years rippled as he moved, and Fëanor found himself unable to speak, always tongue-tied in the presence of such beauty.  
  
"Well?" Arafinwë folded his arms.  
  
"Hello brother." Fëanor swallowed hard. "What brings you here?"  
  
"I think you know." Arafinwë took Fëanor's arm and began marching him out of the greatroom, his stride long and proud. Fëanor's was normally but the depression that had overtaken him had slowed him a bit, rushing to keep up, feeling rather dragged along by the younger Elf.  
  
They arrived in Fëanor's chambers, and when they were absolutely alone, doors closed and locked behind them, Arafinwë gave him a stern look. "I received a courier from Kanafinwë. He says you won't leave your workshop, you're not sleeping, not eating, not -"  
  
"I'm fine, Arafinwë. Really." Fëanor gave a thin, pained smile. _Leave me alone, beauty. Let me suffer._ "I'm sorry you had to come all this way for nothing."  
  
"Hello, Sorry You Had To Come All This Way For Nothing."  
  
Really, Arafinwë could be such a damned _shit_ at times - Fëanor gave it and Arafinwë dished it right back. He _almost_ regretted being a horrible influence on the boy when he was younger.  
  
Fëanor made a noise. "I'll see to it that you're given the guest quarters and something to do with your time -" He tried to walk away, and Arafinwë seized his arm.  
  
Their eyes met. The silver eyes they both had, that Kanafinwë had inherited. Now Arafinwë was taking off his robe, letting it pool to the floor. Fëanor went hard when Arafinwë removed his shirt - _damn him_ for being so attractive, so tempting, so irresistible - and as Arafinwë removed his boots and breeches, he gave Fëanor a condescending look. "I'm waiting, Fëanáro."  
  
"Hello Waiting -"  
  
Arafinwë grabbed him and kissed him hard, and with that, Arafinwë began to undress Fëanor himself. Fëanor wanted to smack him at the smug smirk when his hard cock sprung free, even as a shiver went down his spine at the heat in Arafinwë's eyes. When they were both naked, hard cock pressed up against hard cock, Arafinwë took Fëanor in his arms and kissed him deeply, with such sweetness that it brought tears to Fëanor's eyes.  
  
It was all too often Arafinwë who picked up the broken pieces, when Fëanor was like this. And here he was once again, big damn hero to the rescue. When all the world had forsaken him, there his youngest brother would be, giving him the love he felt he did not deserve, giving him back his fight, fueling his fire when he was so tired and wanted to snuff out once and for all...  
  
Fëanor shoved him back. "Hells-damned son of Indis -"  
  
Somehow, Arafinwë had a dagger concealed in his hand, and it was at Fëanor's heart now. Legs lockstep, Arafinwë's arm steadied around him, dagger still at the heart so one false move would drive it home, and Arafinwë walked him towards the bed. Pushed Fëanor down, climbed over him.  
  
"Now then," Arafinwë said. With his free hand he reached for the vial of oil he knew Fëanor kept on his bedtable. Oil that he'd used many times before, that Ñolofinwë had used, that Kanafinwë had used, one on one and with Fëanor in varying combinations. "Let me in, brother."  
  
With the dagger still at Fëanor's heart, Arafinwë claimed his mouth, kissing him with all the fire that Fëanor had once scorned his youngest brother could not possibly have. Arafinwë kissed Fëanor again and again like he was trying to eat his eldest brother alive, and Fëanor melted to him, moaning, whimpering, trembling, cock throbbing.  
  
"You need this, Fëanáro. Let me give you what you need. _Let me in._ "  
  
Fëanor's arms wrapped around him and his legs spread. He gave a nod.  
  
"Good." Continuing to hold the dagger at his brother's heart, Arafinwë readied Fëanor's channel with oil-slick fingers. "Ai, you are tight, my brother. It has been too long since Ñolofinwë or Kanafinwë has had you."  
  
Fëanor whimpered and bucked against Arafinwë's fingers, relentless, finding that secret, sacred place in him and commanding it to yield its magic. "Ara, please..."  
  
Arafinwë chuckled. "Better." He began to kiss Fëanor's neck, and down to a nipple, knowing how exquisitely sensitive Fëanor was there.  
  
"Ara!" Fëanor bucked against him again, quivering, panting.  
  
Back and forth between Fëanor's nipples the youngest brother went, lapping, suckling, nibbling, tugging with his teeth, laving some more, until Fëanor started to writhe and Arafinwë moved the dagger from Fëanor's heart to his throat.  
  
With the dagger held in place, Arafinwë growled, "Do you trust me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Arafinwë began to push inside, slowly. When he was all the way in they both cried out, and Arafinwë seized Fëanor's mouth again, like he was starving for it. Fëanor moaned into the kiss and Arafinwë responded with a deeper groan. Arafinwë thrust slowly, achingly slowly, dagger at Fëanor's throat, hot, fierce kisses at Fëanor's neck. Using his teeth, nibbling Fëanor's neck and shoulder.  
  
"You know I will never hurt you, Fëanor. Others in this family might... but you know I will not." Their eyes met. "I could devour you, but not destroy you."  
  
" _Arafinwë._ " It was Fëanor who claimed a kiss now, and Arafinwë gave it so willingly, tongues searching, teasing, tasting, wanting. Fëanor reached up to play with a lock of the silver-gold mane he loved so much - loved it because it was like the light of Arafinwë's soul made manifest, just as he loved the blue of Ñolofinwë's eyes for the same reason. "My golden lion."  
  
Arafinwë gave a purr before he kissed Fëanor again. "Yes, Fëanáro. Ere I would hunt you, to bring you back from the darkness." The blade of the dagger began to drag along Fëanor's throat like a sharp caress, the sweet sting of the bite into his flesh sending thrills through his body.  
  
The tip of the blade dragged down Fëanor's skin, from his throat to his chest. Running over one nipple and across the chest to the other, back and forth, making Fëanor tremble and cry out, rolling his hips against Arafinwë, trying to urge him on faster, but Arafinwë still took his time, moving inside Fëanor as slowly as could please.  
  
The blade slid back up to Fëanor's throat, and back down to his heart. Not enough to do serious damage, just enough to break the skin. Arafinwë's tongue lapped the blood that flowed now, and it was then when Arafinwë finally gave in, rocking harder into Fëanor, harder and harder still, as Fëanor's nails dug into Arafinwë's back, crying out, almost sobbing in his need.  
  
"My blood," Arafinwë rasped between hungry kisses. "You can run and hide from your wife, from your son, from our brother... you cannot run and hide from me."  
  
"Ara. _Ara._ Please. _Please. Fuck me._ "  
  
"Yes. Shameless, sluttish, like a wild animal in heat, you will _beg for me._ "  
  
"Ara, my Ara, fuck me, harder, fuck me, brother, _please!_ "  
  
Arafinwë drove into him with abandon, fucking Fëanor as savagely as Fëanor wanted, needed, craved, ached. Fëanor howled, raking Arafinwë's back again, hips slamming together, fire fighting fire and leaving scorched earth, the two of them coming together, Arafinwë letting out a roar before Fëanor screamed his name.  
  
Arafinwë put down the dagger and cradled Fëanor, still inside him. Rocked him gently as their orgasm ebbed and faded, the brilliant blinding glory of it now a soft glow.  
  
"My little lion," Fëanor said, smiling at him adoringly, "how fierce you are."  
  
"It is what you need," Arafinwë said.  
  
"You enjoy it."  
  
Arafinwë smiled. "I did not claim otherwise."  
  
Fëanor gave him a little kiss. "Thank you." And then Fëanor acknowledged, at last, "I did need that, yes."  
  
That smug smirk again... the heat in his eyes. "We're not done yet."  
  
"No," Fëanor said, smirking also, shivering as Arafinwë gave him a deep kiss. When they pulled apart to catch their breath, lips lingering, breathing each other in, Fëanor husked, "Nothing is ever ended, with you and I."


End file.
